Page 29

Chapter 24

Lotte

When Lotte had told Modesty that news traveled faster in the city, she still hadn’t expected there to be pictures of her from only hours ago in this afternoon’s papers.

Every newspaper stand they passed on their drive from the department store to the luncheon showed Lotte leaving the Paragon Hotel wearing a dressing gown, Theo’s coat draped over it. Modesty beaming at the cameras beside her.

At this rate, this evening’s papers would likely show her entering the Arndt mansion in a silk emerald-green gown with diamonds on her wrists and neck, Modesty still beaming beside her.

Lotte didn’t pretend to understand why the currency of newspaper coverage had value. Why it would matter to Modesty Holtzfall that this made girls like Estelle envious, who lived far away from the life they were flaunting. But as the cameras devoured them on the steps to the Arndt mansion, Lotte understood that for whatever it was worth, it was a currency she had right now, one that Modesty wanted.

“Vultures,” Modesty said unconvincingly, picking up two glasses of champagne from a tray as they entered, handing one to Lotte. Lotte might be affecting the role of a wide-eyed country girl, but it didn’t take much pretending at that moment. The ceiling of the Arndt mansion was elaborately decorated with scenes from stories of the ancient woods. Trolls rampaging through villages, knights receiving swords from immortal beings, girls spinning gold. And climbing the columns of the ballroom were wreaths of flowers so elaborate that some garden somewhere must’ve been stripped bare.

When she pulled her gaze back down, she realized people were staring at her. She might as well have turned up wearing a dressing gown.

Finally, a girl in a blue gown fringed with pearls broke off toward them, her dress clinking excitedly as she moved across the room.

“Oh, I’ve been dying to meet the newest Holtzfall arrival!”

“Angelika!” Another girl, with chestnut hair fashioned into an elaborate braid, joined them. “Don’t put it like that. You make it sound like she’s a new baby they’ve just announced.”

The first girl, Angelika, wrinkled her nose in amusement. “Oh, please, I doubt anyone will make the mistake of sending rattles as welcome gifts.”

“No one has sent any welcome gifts so far,” Lotte said.

Angelika, Modesty, and the brunette laughed. Lotte belatedly managed to school her face into vaguely beatific amusement as if she’d meant it innocently and not sarcastically.

It didn’t take long before Lotte was being passed around like a doll all the guests wanted to marvel at. They didn’t seem to need answers to the questions they tossed at her.

“Where have they been hiding you away?”

A briar pit in a convent while you sipped champagne.

“So you grew up in the countryside? And this is your first time in Walstad? How quaint! Why didn’t you come visit the city before? There’s so much more to do here. At least that’s what I find, it’s pure boredom on my country estate.”

Because not all of us have the freedom of wealth.

She sipped her drink to drown out the answers she wanted to give. And every time she finished a glass, someone seemed to hand her a fresh one.

On festival days, Lotte and Estelle would sometimes manage to sneak a mug of beer each. And half the time, the dregs of it got dumped in Carlotta Feuer’s flower bed when they’d hear someone coming.

But champagne was a different beast altogether, and somewhere around when the speeches began, Lotte realized that the bubbles had gone to her head.

Hugo Arndt, Lotte noticed through a slightly light head, was a well-dressed man with a blinding grin. As he rose to a podium, Lotte found herself being shuffled to stand with a gaggle of others in green. It took her a second to realize that it was her family. A sea of Holtzfall green at the center of the room. Her mother had come from…somewhere. Grace smiled at her approvingly, and Lotte felt her heart soar. She wanted her mother to smile like that at her for the rest of her life.

“My friends!” Hugo Arndt began, leaning on one side of the podium, a glass dangling carelessly from his hands. “You’re all here—well, let’s be honest, you’re all here because I have a well-stocked cellar, for one.” He raised his glass as a laugh ran through the crowd. “But you’re also here because I think we can all agree that it’s time for one of our own to be in charge. We need a leader who understands what a grave threat the Grims pose to us . And I saw it myself last night.” He gestured into the crowd toward Modesty, who pressed her Veritaz-ringed hand to her chest as if surprised she was the topic of conversation. “Governor Gerwald says he is going to put measures in place. I have it on good authority that in his little speech on the vox tonight, he is going to decree a curfew for anyone below the fifth circle.” A ripple went through the crowd. “But I say!” Hugo Arndt raised his voice again. “That a curfew is not enough! We need to use our resources to root out the problem: that bloody pest Isengrim! And can you really trust our current governor to have our best interests at heart when, just last month, he was talking about equal vote reform?” Another laugh went through the crowd.

“An equal vote?” This time she didn’t have to play up her country girl ignorance. There had been a vote for the governor in Gelde too. Every three years, a small ballot box wheeled through town and the people of Gelde lined up and made their choice.

“Oh, you know.” Modesty waved a hand. “The Grims seem to think it should be one vote per person instead of votes being weighted by income. But then imagine . The governor would have to pander to the whole city instead of working for the people like us who pay for everything, including his salary.” Modesty laughed. “Ridiculous notion that people like them should get the same vote as us.”

Lotte had thought she’d understood what wealth was. Lennart Hinde had been the wealthiest person she’d known before Walstad. In Gelde, that meant ordering dresses from the city and eating meat every night of the week. But this wealth, this was something different. This was power.

Her face was already hot from the champagne, but she felt it rising now with anger. Lotte knew from years of experience that she had trouble keeping her anger at bay, even knowing it only made things worse. She had spent more than one night in the briar pit because she had snapped at one of the Sisters.

And under the influence of the champagne, she felt herself dangerously close to saying something. Something that would undo all the doe-eyed ignorance she had labored over today. She had to leave. Before she revealed in front of her whole family what a lifetime in the countryside had really made her. Not an innocent little good girl. An angry wild creature.

As laughter rippled through the crowd again, Lotte turned, swiftly pushing her way out of the ballroom.

And straight into Honora Holtzfall as she came through the front door.

Lotte had probably seen Honora Holtzfall’s face more than she’d seen her own. She seemed to grace every magazine and newspaper that they got in Gelde. She dominated gossip columns, fashion spreads, and event announcements, over and over again.

Estelle had hated her with the sort of spite that only came from jealousy. She’s too foreign to actually be pretty , Estelle was fond of saying. She just fools us into thinking she’s attractive because of all the money . But in person, Lotte realized, Honora Holtzfall was fooling everyone. Because no photograph had ever done her justice.

Lotte didn’t know where her eyes should come to a rest on the sharp, sweeping planes of her face. Her sleek cheekbones conspired with an elegant nose to make Lotte feel suddenly self-conscious, like every feature on her own face was snub and provincial.

Meanwhile, Honora Holtzfall had the look of someone who had never cared less what anyone thought of her.

“Making up for lost time with the champagne consumption?” she remarked, and Lotte realized she was still holding an empty glass. “You have sixteen years of catching up to do.”

She considered trying the innocent country girl act that she’d been using on Modesty all day. Gosh, I’ve never had such nice sparkling wine before. I didn’t think these bubbles would go to my head like this. But Lotte was just sober enough to know she was too drunk to pull it off. And more than that, she was too angry. Angry at this room full of people laughing at people like her, born with nothing. Angry that she felt so outside of it all. That she felt nothing like a Holtzfall.

“I don’t know, how much champagne do you think it takes to make up for all those times they locked me in a pit without anything to eat or drink?”

Honora let out an impatient sigh. “You’re as dramatic as Aunt Grace.”

“And you’re as ignorant as the rest of them in there.” The Sisters had often chastised drinkers in their sermons, preaching that alcohol led to foolish drunken brawls. Lotte wasn’t sure exactly if this was a brawl, but she was in the mood to fight someone.

Honora sighed again, but she looked faintly irked. “Since you’re new to this family, I find it’s my sad duty to inform you that I’m a great deal smarter than anyone currently here. Yourself included, obviously.”

Lotte somehow didn’t doubt that. She could see the canny look in Honora Holtzfall’s eye. And it made her angrier. “And with all those smarts, you still think all of this is fair ? That you get more of a vote than everyone else?” She waved a hand vaguely. “That if that man in there charms the four hundred people here, then it doesn’t matter what any of the thousands of other people he governs think?”

Honora Holtzfall considered her soberly. “That politics aren’t fair isn’t news to me,” she replied finally.

“So why don’t you do anything about it?” Lotte could feel it clawing at her chest. The unfairness of everything.

“Because nothing in the world is fair. Some of us get champagne and murdered mothers. Some of us get convents and living mothers dropped into our laps at opportune moments. It’s better to learn to live with your lot in life than complain like it will make a difference.”

Lotte’s mind felt soft and indistinct with the champagne, so she wasn’t sure what she was angry about anymore. She was angry about the vote. About Mr.Brahm dying. About the maid’s memories being stripped from her this morning. She was angry that she had to pretend to be silly and foolish to survive. About being passed around like a fairground novelty. She was angry that this could have been her whole life and she wouldn’t feel so out of place. She wouldn’t see how unfair it all was. She was angry that people like Freddie Loetze and Hugo Arndt and, hell, Modesty Holtzfall thought their wealth made them deserve power over others. “Do you just not care because the world is unfair in your favor?”

Outlined in the darkened doorway, in the glow spilling out from the ballroom, Nora looked like an immortal spirit in the stories. The ones made of light that led the worthy to safety and the unworthy over the edge of a cliff. And for a moment, Lotte thought she was going to say something else. Something truthful. And then another figure appeared behind her, and all of a sudden the light moved and she was just a girl again.

Theo. He had vanished from the department store, replaced by another knight whose name she didn’t know. Only to reappear now, shaking rain from his hair, eyes moving between the two of them.

As undressed as she had felt this morning wearing a bathrobe in front of him, she felt even more bare now draped in silk and diamonds.

“As much as I’d like to send you into the streets of Walstad tipsy and alone, if you were abducted, I’m sure they’d blame it on me somehow.” Nora raised a shoulder, elegant even in her disdain. “Get Ottoline back safely,” Nora instructed Theo without looking at him, and then she was gone. Vanished into the bright glittering fold of the party that Lotte had left behind.

After that, Lotte didn’t entirely remember how she got back to the Paragon. She remembered Theo guiding her to an automobile. She remembered the city spinning by as dusk turned to night. She thought she might have fallen asleep at some point.

She was half aware of being lifted.

And of a mind that was not her own breaking past her hindern as her head lay against his chest.

Your oath or your blood , a voice she didn’t know whispered in her mind nastily. Which do you value more?